


My Brother's Slayer

by LorienEUrbani



Category: Thor - Fandom, Thor: The Dark World - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Jotun Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorienEUrbani/pseuds/LorienEUrbani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has tried to kill Thor twice, but on his third attempt, he has every intention of succeeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother's Slayer

He has attempted to kill his brother two times.

 

On both occasions, he was stopped by sentiment, clawing at his intenstines as painful remorse and making him stop. Relief and hatred washed over him. He wanted to end the strife and murder the Thunderer, so he might nevermore be compared to him and suffocate in the heavy shadows cast by the strong light of the one who wielded Mjölnir; who was golden and perfect and possessed everything; who was everything Loki was not.

 

He wanted to kill Thor and he did not do so. Loki loves him and Loki hates him for it. He hates being forever defined by Thor, existing as Thor’s once-brother, Thor’s opposite, Thor’s shadow, Thor’s nemesis. Always somehow belonging to Thor, expanding Thor’s light with his own darkness, assisting the Thunderer in becoming even more of a hero. Always a means to Asgard’s rulers and nothing more.

 

Loki wants to be his own, simply Loki, defined by no one but himself.

 

He would have stopped the Destroyer even if Thor had not reclaimed his rights with his irritating nobility. He would have aimed the dagger a little higher at the top of Stark Tower, if only he had wanted it enough. In both cases, Loki failed. The affection in Thor’s eyes stopped him, the terrible belief in the great warrior’s naive heart that Loki could be saved and made good again. _Fool_. How can one make something good when it has always been rotten inside? He was born like this and he will not change himself.

 

Yet Thor has loved him for more than a millennium, without reproach and condescension, and Loki has not been able to stop his powerful heart. He has tried to be hateful and abominable, vile and monstrous, shocking and beyond redemption. And Thor, the mighty, idiotic Thor, has persisted in his brotherly affection.

 

Thor is his deepest weakness, Loki knows, and he cannot bear it any longer. How can he make Thor hate him and wish Loki dead, not with pretentious words that hold no true intention, but in the very core of his proud warrior’s heart? For, as long as Thor loves him, Loki is attached to his false brother, hoping himself, a fool’s hope.

 

Now that he helped Thor defeat Malekith’s troops, Loki wishes to gut Thor and throw him to Hela’s wolves, for a new beacon of hope has been lit inside Thor’s eyes. Loki is to be taken back to Asgard and imprisoned anew, until the day he repents for his crimes. Thor, blind, so impossibly and provokingly blind, means to force redemption upon him. Loki will never feel it and Loki will never apologise, nor try to ameliorate his ways. He simply does not feel sorry for all the mischief and death he caused in three realms. He wanted to do all of those things, but they did not satisfy him.

 

He remains Asgard’s slave and its toy, a repellent creature that Asgardians can continue to abhor and curse and compare to their golden prince and future king. He feels that he is nothing without Thor, while Thor can live on unperturbed without Loki. In fact, Thor is better without Loki and why should Loki not have the same privilege? He has spent a long time trying to earn it and he wants it more than he ever has.

 

Loki means to be free.

 

Faking his death is an easy endeavour, such a simple trick that a child could perform it. Bearing Thor’s grief is much harder. It manages to bite into his heart and pull at the flesh, drawing blood. He wants to drag Thor down by the golden mane and drill a dagger into his throat right then, but he cannot. He wants to shout obscenities into Thor’s face.

 

_How can I make you hate me?_

 

Thor _must_ be made to hate him. Oh, and Loki means to ensure that, suppressing any twinge of sentiment that might beg him to reconsider and cease the madness.

 

When Thor leaves with the mortal, Loki finally begins to put his plan into motion. He draws on his seiðr and returns to Asgard as a guard, reporting to Odin of the battle in Svartálfaheimr. He cloaks the throne room from Heimdall’s sight, speaking with the guard’s voice, and Odin listens, face expressionless, and in that moment, All-Father is vulnerable, for there is no reason for him to be wary in the presence of one of his loyal Einherjar. Loki has no qualms about killing the king and he commits the act with no remorse at all. As he bows to Odin after All-Father has dismissed him, showing no grief for Loki’s demise, Loki strikes, plunging the guard’s sword through Odin’s heart.

 

Shock spreads over Odin’s ancient face and Loki drops the illusion, revealing his true form. He shakes a little, for he did not believe he would be able to do it, not until the moment that metal pierced flesh and scraped against bones. Loki is surprised, releasing the sword’s handle, as well as a fractured sigh, but he is also glad. He feels a sense of justice, for he has just struck down the man who once made him hate himself and took away what was Loki’s. His relationship with Odin was always strained and it was not difficult for Loki to reconcile himself to the fact that Odin was not his father.

 

“Loki, no,” Odin whispers, collapsing to the ground, and a tear glides down his cheek between two deep wrinkles.

 

Loki has heard those words before and they prevent the onslaught of any feelings for the fallen god that might still persist inside him. He doesn’t believe the tear and it is too late now. Loki is on a quest entirely his own and he will not be deterred.

 

“Son...” Odin rasps out, slowly fading into the after-life, and he attempts to lift one hand to Loki’s face.

 

Loki, crouching by his side, swats it away and sneers in his face. “Perhaps I am your son, after all, for it is you who has taught me to lie, to cheat, to betray, to destroy. I _am_ like you, Odin, much more so than Thor. In my core, I am as black and deceitful and rotten as you. But you hide it better.”

 

Those are the last words that Odin hears before his spirit slips from his body and departs. Loki wanders if it has gone to Valhalla or Hel, and he does not feel ashamed that his hopes for Odin’s spirit are for the latter place. Odin does not deserve to be reunited with Frigga, who went to Valhalla and not Fólkvangr, for she had been a great, brave queen, a shield-maiden and a true heroine, and the Norns had woven that honour especially for her.

 

As Odin passes, Loki sheds a tear for _her_ , queen and mother, whom he will never see again, the only one who had freely given him her love and knowledge, and demanded nothing in return. He loved her and he shall never regret that. Now that she is gone, for which he has blamed Odin and Thor, there is nothing left to stop him but Thor’s foolish affection for a brother that never was his sibling.

 

Loki wanted Asgard once, its throne and its acceptance. But when Loki decided to sever ties, he meant to sever them all. He is, after all, of Jötunheimr and he has no intention of hiding himself any longer. He will belong to no one and he will be himself.

 

He leaves Odin’s body in the throne room and places his horned helmet by its side, so that Thor, when he returns, may know who slew his father, and then he shall _have to_ hate Loki.

 

Loki teleports to the Weapons Vault and takes – does not steal, for it his _right_ to possess it – the Casket of Ancient Winters. He does not linger. Once the casket is in his hands, he leaves immediately, teleporting to a crevice in the mountains of Asgard that serves as a secret portal to Jötunheimr. Only Loki knows of it and he enters the darkness of the portal without any doubts weighing him down. He knows that, as the wielder of the Casket of Ancient Winters, the jötnar will have no choice but to accept him as their new king. Is he not, after all, the lost prince and the rightful heir? It matters not that he murdered his predecessor, his own father. The jötnar do not know that and, more importantly, he will return to them what Asgard took.

 

And then, Asgard will attack, its armies led by Thor, the new king of the Realm Eternal. There is no doubt that Asgard will come marching into Loki’s kingdom.

 

Loki means to wait for them.

 

He means to have Thor.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Within the span of a fortnight, Jötunheimr has become a place of cold, light blue beauty. On the glittering planes of Glæsisvellir, the king’s palace, a large, impressive building made of thick glass, white stone and ice, has been restored. The river Ifing flows again and the winter plants of deep purple and silver are in bloom, not dormant anymore under layers of grey, forgotten ice. What was dead and trapped in the frozen snow has been awakened. The magical power of the casket hums through the ice, reviving it to its former glory, and the one who wields the instrument does so with great skill, dipped deep in seiðr.

 

Jötunheimr has a new king, the lost heir of Laufey and Fárbauti, and he is small, but he is not seen as a runt. He is a powerful sorcerer who brought back the Casket of Ancient Winters and who has restored the kingdom so well that it takes the jötnar’s breath away. They accept him as their king. He is respected and admired, and he is also feared, and that is how it should be. King Loki killed their greatest enemy and in the eyes of the jötnar, Jötunheimr has been avenged.

 

Jötunheimr has been given a new opportunity, but it must fight for it with ice and metal, for the Ice Kingdom is at war. The fury of Asgard has descended upon it like a mad eagle upon its prey and dark blood, of both armies, is cutting cracks into the frozen ground, sliding through the ice beneath like crimson vines. The air is riddled with the sounds of war-making, battle cries and yowls of anguish clashing like thunder clouds.

 

And removed from the chaos and fervent blood-shed, in the outer courtyard of the king’s palace, stands Loki, spine erect and hands clasped at the small of his back, facing his once-brother. Loki stayed behind on purpose, sending his army to face Asgardian warriors without him, appointing the capable Thiazi to lead the forces in his stead. The king of Jötunheimr is not interested in spilling the blood of Asgardian soldiers. His intentions are focused on one warrior alone and he waits for Thor to come to him, crushing apart the iron gates of the palace’s courtyard with Mjölnir’s sizzling energy.

 

Thor is magnificent in his rage, his muscles rippling with the paroxysms of unleashed anger, the runes carved into the hammer alight and spelling the doom of anyone who shall cross its path. The red cape billows and claps behind him like the lethal wings of Yggdrasil’s powerful eagle. He looks as if he has swallowed the thunder, his blue eyes sparkling with the promise of vengeance and murder. When Thor’s eyes find the Trickster’s, his lips curls upwards and he says nothing, but Loki can imagine the snarl boiling in Thor’s throat.

 

Loki hides nothing. He is dressed in his signature attire he adopted in Asgard, but his eyes are crimson and his skin blue. He smiles wickedly as surprise and shock briefly pass over Thor’s face. Thor has stubbornly persisted in his affection for Loki, refusing the truth. But now, Thor knows that Loki is a murderer and truly a jotunn, and it is time to finish it all.

 

“Welcome to my humble abode, brother,” Loki says, his words teasing, the word _brother_ a clear provocation.

 

Thor bites into the bait. “Do not call me that, not ever again,” he says, every word heavy and sharp. “You were right, Loki. We were never brothers. We were raised as brothers and I loved you as my brother for centuries. I defended you in the name of brotherhood, even after your crimes against the realms. Not anymore. You slew the man who raised you as his own _son_. You _murdered_ him in cold blood. You are truly vile and I denounce you, entirely.”

 

Finally, Thor has given Loki what Loki has wanted. Thor’s love is gone. Loki laughs a breathy laugh and swallows down a heavy curse as tears, unbidden and not meant to appear at such a moment – and not ever again - rise to the brim of his lower lids, threatening to spill. Thor doesn’t love him anymore and it nearly breaks Loki’s heart, the realisation, not only of the simple fact, but also of the truth of how much Loki has depended on that foolish affection. He hates his own sentimental heart and it is clear now, more than ever, that he must eradicate Thor from his existence. At least, Thor’s denouncement of his false Trickster brother has finally made it possible for Loki to truly want to spill the Thunderer’s guts. Their bond is broken, all ties between them severed, and the threat of remorse is blissfully gone.

 

“ _Why_?” Thor demands and Loki laughs.

 

“I hated him,” he replies simply and prepares for the first strike. It will come soon, he knows.

 

“He saved your life. He raised you. He _loved_ you.” With every new sentence, the volume of Thor’s voice rises, but the brontide of accusations never rises to its full potential. Thor seems determined to keep himself in check for now. Loki refuses to be patient. He is ready. He takes a long step forward and speaks.

 

“He took me for his own selfish purposes. He twisted and bent me to his will. What you see, Thor, is the product of his deceit and lies. He taught me the ways, such a brilliant teacher. And _I_ ,” another step forward, “didn’t want it anymore and decided that he should pay the weregild for his crimes with his life. I did the realms a favour and made _you_ king. You should be _thanking_ me.”

 

Thor’s knuckles turn white as he grips the hammer tight and his breath grows heavy, tinted with the promise of murder. “I have to kill you now. It is my turn to do the realms a favour, for you are a threat to all the goodness that the Tree contains. It would have pained me, once, to face you in such circumstances, but no more. It is my duty and privilege to avenge my father’s death. It is time for you to pay the weregild for _your_ crimes.”

 

Loki chuckles, genuinely entertained. “You _have to_ kill me? But Thor, I thought you’d _enjoy_ the attempt! Don’t you want it?” The smile disappears and Loki hisses out his next words like the serpent that has often served as his comparison. “I know that I _want_ to end _you_.”

 

Loki tilts his head upwards and Thor grinds his teeth together, both men ready.

 

“Or would you prefer to chatter away some more?” Loki offers.

 

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Loki.”

 

“Good.” Loki grins and pulls his prized dagger from its sheath attached to his belt. The next moment, the fist of his other hand transforms into hard ice and elongates, forming a sharp spear. “For I do wish to know just how much a god can bleed.”

 

If Loki played fair, this personal battle could unfold in so many ways and not many of them in his favour, for his strength is no match to Thor’s. But Loki does not play fair, for it is not in his nature. And why should he when he has new tricks up his sleeve and his powers have increased, due to his possession of the Casket of Ancient Winters? He watches as Thor begins to swing the hammer and call upon its scalding power. The sky above the Thunderer blackens and Mjölnir sucks in the silver-blue lightning that the dark clouds spew down at Thor’s command. Thor lets out a battle roar and sends the lightning flying through his father’s slayer – and Loki laughs, the sound low and delighted, as the hammer ruins his illusion, shattering it into a thousand wisps of blue and green.

 

Loki does not want a long, noble fight. He simply wants the end.

 

Before Thor can recover from the filthy surprise, Loki is behind him, not an illusion this time, and shoves the ice spear between his once-brother’s ribs, making use of the spot where the armour doesn’t protect Thor’s body, penetrating flesh and chipping hard bones. Thor yowls and makes to turn around, but Loki is swift, pushing further and further, soaking the spear in hot blood. He persists, breathing hard, until he feels that the tip of the ice blade has kissed the Thunderer’s lungs and latched onto them with its cold sharpness.

 

It is done.

 

Thor falls to his knees and calls the hammer to him, but Loki does not wait idly for Thor to harm him. He twists his wrist viciously, making Thor grunt as he proudly swallows down a scream, and then Loki pulls out the spear, making it vanish, blood seeping through the hole in Thor's body that it has created. Thor is a prime warrior and despite Loki's efforts to make things fast and easy with the use of his seiðr, Loki finds his knees buckling under his weight as Thor swings the hammer, hitting Loki under the knees and upending him.

 

Asgardians are hard to kill and Thor, the hardest of them all.

 

“Trickster,” Thor spits out and wheezes. He is severely wounded, _damaged_ , and it is all Loki’s doing.

 

Momentarily, Loki feels that he should stop, perhaps call a truce or teleport away and leave Thor to be found by his warriors and taken to the healing rooms of Asgard. His right hand, which served as the spear before, is dripping, Thor’s blood boring small holes into the snow under his feet. It is sentiment, base and idiotic, and Loki discards it. It enrages him so much that he jumps forward into Thor’s arms and slices deep under the Thunderer’s chin with the dagger. Thor gurgles and grabs Loki by the neck, squeezing with all the might he has left, and it is plenty, for it is not easy to destroy the most powerful warrior of Asgard.

 

Loki can’t breathe and his vision blurs, but this does not last long. Thor falls on his back, releasing Loki’s neck, and Loki breathes in deeply, supporting his arms on Thor’s broad chest. It is still heaving, but Loki can feel that the breaths are growing shallower. Crimson trails are gushing from the wound on Thor’s neck and the warrior wants to speak, but he has lost his voice.

 

“What was that, Thor?” Loki asks teasingly, leaning his ear against Thor’s lips in mockery.

 

He catches a whisper, so thin and fragile that it’s barely there, but it manages to make its way past Thor’s lips.

 

 _Brother_.

 

Loki recoils, scampering away from Thor, red eyes glaring.

 

“Don’t you _dare_!” he shouts at the dying man. “Just _die_!”

 

 _Brother_ , the word resonates in Loki’s mind and he covers his ears, smearing them crimson with Thor’s blood coating his fingers and palms. He drops the dagger and hisses.

 

“ _Shut up_!” Loki shrieks and delivers a hearty kick at Thor’s ribs. Not even a moan escapes Thor and Loki can see that he is still alive, but barely so and not for much longer. Thor is definitely dying.

 

This should be Loki’s moment of triumph. He should rejoice and sneer at Thor’s soon-to-be corpse. It was so easy to defeat him with trickery, so easy to stab him, so easy... Why should it be so hard to watch him die?

 

Loki feels tired and he is weary of this new form he has been wearing for the sake of the jötnar since the day he came to them as their new king. With a sigh, he transforms into the pale, green-eyed creature Thor has known since their infancy and kneels down by the warrior, intent on covering Thor's nose and mouth with his hands and smothering the remains of Thor’s life out of him. Loki has stabbed him and cut his throat, but he can’t finish the act of murder. He has defeated Thor and he is not happy, and it’s a curse. Can he truly never achieve satisfaction?

 

He wants to burn down Yggdrasil itself for still needing his false brother.

 

So, Loki watches as Thor struggles, suffers as Thor’s eyes remain locked on his the entire time, the tears in them drying, lips twitching in a meagre effort to form words. Loki can’t look away. Thor is not quite dead yet; there is still some life in him; and the loss is already too great.

 

He was a fool to ever think he would be free of Thor.

 

Loki knows that he will not be free of the Thunderer until Loki himself has died and the rest of his existence suddenly seems impossibly long. The centuries spent with Thor as his brother and friend flash through his mind. Loki hates these memories, this onslaught of feelings, and can’t seem to let go of them at the same time.

 

“I hate you,” he whispers as Thor closes his eyes and releases his final breath. “Because I don’t. Brother...”

 

Loki remembers one particularly painful memory, of yet another quarrel with Thor, of Frigga trying to calm their tempers, saying to them, _Oh, my silly sons, you fight so much and yet you could not bear to live without each other. Thor is nothing without Loki, and Loki nothing without Thor_. She smiled and they resented her the words, but they ring as true now as they did then.

 

Something twists inside Loki and he stabs Thor through his dead, still heart with the dagger, as if to make himself feel better, as if to assure himself that he _is_ angry and has every right to feel that way. He pulls the dagger out and screams, screams, screams, until his throat is raw, and then he stands up and walks away, unable to bear the sight of Thor’s corpse any longer.

 

He sees the battle between his kingdom and Asgard raging down below and it gives him no satisfaction. Nothing will anymore.

 

Loki marches forward, towards the slaughter, and smiles. It has been good to be king and he wonders how much he wishes to continue being one. If he wins this battle, he might claim Asgard, too. Anything is possible. But without Thor opposing his every step, the prospect seems oddly bleak and boring. The mighty Thor really has no match. Loki understand that now.

 

It seems fitting that it is the Warriors Three, Thor’s close companions, who catch sight of him first. The Lady Sif is close by, exercising her glaive with brutal precision.

 

Loki chuckles. “I killed him,” he shouts and waves his bloodied hands at them. “Your king is dead.”

 

He guffaws as they run towards him like one lethal weapon and he spreads his arms as if in warm welcome. He will not go down without a fight, of course. It is not in his nature to not use tricks, but he does not intend to empty his entire arsenal upon them.

 

Hel, they say, is bearable at this time of year.

**Author's Note:**

> When I read Blood Brothers some time ago, I found it interesting that Loki couldn't bring himself to kill Thor, although throughout the comics and in the movies, he has sure tried it. It is just a personal thing, really, but I also believe that, while Thor can live without Loki, I'm not so sure Loki could endure five millenia without his brother/enemy #1.


End file.
